Nor' Easter

I brought the car around in front The rain and wind had been predicted ..and this time the weather man is right. "Babette's Feast" has nothing on me. The dinner is being loaded into the car first, then it will be transplanted to the Block Island Boat. It's 6:45 a.m. The guards who work at the Benefit Street Courthouse are battling the wind on foot to get to the courthouse. One guy eyes the cake in my hand and comments: "Alright.!" Of course I give him the whole story of heading to Block Island with my son's birthday dinner. He repeats...."Alright." I had been up since 4 a.m. Charlie Rose helped, so did my guy with the exercise class at 6 I made my bed, put on all the lights, and even left the television on, in case I didn't get back. My son lives year-round on Block Island, and, maybe like all semi-bachelors, he hates dishes ...and cooking, which breeds lots of dirty dishes. So he is content to eat island-restaurant food. Two good things about eating out on Îan island are the comraderie of other island folks.and not having to make decisions with grocery lists and what one was going to eat. The island offers, depending on how far we are into the winter season, a choice of one restaurant From that point of view, island-dining is good for not building up too much stress. On the other hand, one might build up more cholesterol In either case, you can't win. Well, as the mother of this young man who will turn 39 on Halloween, I gave some serious thought to buying one of those microwave ovens. I've never used one myself and know nothing of how they function. But in one of our phone calls, he expressed an interest in one. What I believe he had in mind was a small one to heat t.v. dinners in; again, a good choice. Not much decision-making... keep it simple. I, somehow, view the situation differently. Let me tell you right now; a much larger microwave has been packed in the back seat of the car. It wouldn't fit in the trunk. I take a mental check: salad, pizza, manicotti, cheese, crackers, dried salami, green grapes, and salad dressing. And of course the cake. I have everything. The condo has been sealed tight. I check the gas, money in my pocket, and I'm off for a much deserved rest. I have not had a day off in ...I can't remember when. At the coffee shop I meet the young man, (about my son's age) who will be accompanying me over the high seas today, I am taking the car over, so this is like having a chauffeur. Heavy storm gear is being warned by early morning coffee addicts like myself. One even predicted that the boat wouldn't be running. My companion and myself had committed to going, rain or shine. The boat did leave on time and after a rough ride, two very queasy people drove off the boat into the wind and rain of a northeastern storm. My son was at the dock and we followed his truck with our little Volkswagon Gulf up the winding road with full cargo. The large box with the microwave oven did not take my son by surprise. He lifted it in his arms like a newborn baby and placed it on a high table he had prepared in advance for its arrival. On observing this ritual, my stress level took a drop to normal. Later on, he gave a tour of the island to the young man from California whose first time on the island was full of earth mother's elements. When they returned, maternal mother had the birthday feast celebration ready. All three sat gratefully at this refuge and passed the bread as the wind and lashing rains pounded away For that hour or so, I was happy and peaceful. The journey had been more than worth it. The boat did not go out the next day, and since my son's significant other was coming too, in the wind and rain by plane, we were shipped out to the other end of the island, to a friend's house. But I missed my son's house, high on the hill. Mostly I missed him which I do now more often as I am growing older. In this beach house surrounded by the grassy dunes and the restless sea, I reminisced of all the fantasies I've ever had of being marooned on an island The young man and I set up camp. He made a fire, and I held my Brown rape whistle tight in the event of date rape. As I was boarding the boat to go back home, my son whispers in my ear, "Did you blow it?"

Copyright; Ruth Mahoney 3-Nov-88